Chapter 6

The autumn night was crisp outside, but inside the car, it was warm and quiet.

Willow caught the scent of fresh tobacco. Jeffrey smoked the same brand as Julian. For a moment, in her hazy state, she got confused. She thought Julian was the one sitting beside her.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she reached out, grasping his hand. "Julian."

Half-asleep, she felt like she had slipped back in time. Back to when she and Julian were still a young couple.

Jeffrey didn't pull his hand away. He didn't say a word either. He simply turned and looked out at the road ahead. The night was as deep and dense, eerily similar to the way he felt at that moment.

Jeffrey had been with women before.

But those had always been casual arrangements—no strings attached. He had never experienced emotions as intense as Willow's. For the first time, he wondered what it would be like to be loved by someone like her.

In the distance, fireworks bloomed against the sky, their brilliance cutting through the night.

Willow stirred slightly, just a small movement, but Jeffrey noticed. He turned to her, and his eyes were deep and unreadable. "You awake?"

Willow's limbs felt heavy, but her mind was slowly clearing.

She remembered drinking too much. She vaguely recalled Jeffrey pulling her out of the bar, but the rest was a blur.

Her voice was hoarse. "What time is it?"

"Just past 1:30 am," Jeffrey replied.

Willow gazed out at the fireworks with misty eyes. She was unusually quiet.

After a long silence, she spoke softly, "I once saw the most beautiful fireworks in the world. I thought they were mine to keep. But I forgot that no matter how dazzling, fireworks only last for a moment.

"Just like Julian and me. I thought if I gave up everything for him, we'd last forever. But now I finally understand that Julian might have imagined love once or twice, but the woman he loves was never me."

A bitter smile curved her lips. "Jeffrey, do you think I'm a failure?"

"You're not."

Jeffrey's voice was calm. "As long as you want it, you'll always be Mrs. Ziegler."

It wasn't just empty comfort.

Men like Julian didn't divorce easily. He might enjoy spoiling a younger woman for a while, but the title of Mrs. Ziegler was reserved for someone like Willow.

Willow just smiled faintly. She said nothing more and kept watching the fireworks.

…

By 2:00 am., Jeffrey pulled up in front of Grandview Manor.

The car came to a stop. Willow turned to him and thanked him for the ride. She held out his jacket, ready to return it.

"Keep it on," Jeffrey said. "It's cold out."

Willow thought that it seemed more proper to return it after getting it cleaned, so she didn't insist. Holding the jacket, she stepped out of the car and bid him farewell.

Jeffrey remained seated, offering a polite nod before pressing the gas and driving away from the villa.

The moonlight was cool, and the wind brushed against her skin.

Willow rubbed her temple. Her head ached.

From the house, Blair Vaughn, the housekeeper, hurried over.

The moment she got close, she caught the scent of alcohol.

Blair didn't comment on it. Instead, she asked gently, "Have you been drinking, Mrs. Ziegler? Mr. Ziegler just called. He'll be dropping by soon to pick up some clothes. Would you like to pack them, or should I take care of it?"

Willow had already made up her mind about the divorce. Julian's affairs no longer concerned her.

She told Blair to handle it, while she wandered up with Jeffrey's jacket in hand. The moment she touched the bed, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

A night breeze lifted the sheer curtains. Moonlight spilled into the room, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the woman on the bed. She looked delicate and alluring.

At the foot of the bed, Jeffrey's black jacket lay where she had dropped it.

…

In the deep of the night, a car pulled into the driveway.

Julian had come back.

But he didn't step out. He simply opened the door of his black Bentley.

The evening had ended badly between him and Willow. And with Catherine's condition worsening, he had no reason to stay. He was just here for his clothes.

Blair heard the car and quickly came outside. She handed the duffel bag with a change of clothes to Julian in the car.

She said, "Mrs. Ziegler just got back. She seems pretty drunk. Mr. Gibson was kind enough to bring her home."

Julian frowned. Willow had been drinking?

After a brief pause, he decided to check on her.

A moment later, Julian went upstairs and pushed open the master bedroom door.

The lights were dim, and the air carried the faint scent of wine. Even Willow's breathing was tinged with a soft sweetness.

Julian reached for the switch and turned on the wall lamp.

Light flooded the room.

Julian's gaze immediately fell on Willow, lying on the large bed. Her long hair was messily spread across her chest. The silk blouse she wore hung loosely open at the collar, revealing smooth, soft skin. Her black skirt had ridden up slightly from her movements, accentuating the alluring curves of her body.

Willow had always had a great figure.

Julian had always known that. He was her husband, after all.

But she had never truly let herself go. She was always reserved and distant in bed. Sometimes, she would even bring up business while they were in the middle of the action. Over time, his desire had faded.

But the sight before him stirred something in Julian—a flicker of desire he hadn't felt in a long time. He figured it had simply been too long since he'd last let himself go. Normally, he was used to keeping his desires in check.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching her.

Even in sleep, her brows were drawn together, as if she were troubled by some unseen weight.

He had always known Willow loved him. But he didn't love her. All he had ever been willing to give her was the title of Mrs. Ziegler. Love had never been part of the equation.

Lifting a hand, he brushed his fingers lightly against her cheek.

Her skin was cold to the touch.

His gaze darkened, and he murmured, "Isn't being Mrs. Ziegler enough for you? Willow, love that burns too brightly only leads to ruin. I thought you'd seen it all and let go of love long ago."

The only response was the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Julian was about to leave when his gaze swept over the foot of the bed. And then he stopped.

A man's jacket lay there.

Julian reached out and picked up the jacket. It was from a high-end designer brand. Most of his formal wear came from the same label, but this jacket definitely wasn't his.

Which meant it had to be Jeffrey's.

A sharp discomfort twisted in his chest. Even though he knew Jeffrey wouldn't have any designs on Willow, the innate possessiveness of a man still unsettled him.

Willow was his wife!

…

The living room downstairs was brightly lit.

Blair had stayed up, waiting for Julian to come down. Finally, she heard movement from upstairs.

Julian came downstairs with a dark expression. Without a word, he handed the jacket to Blair and said flatly, "Take this to the dry cleaners, then have someone send it to Jeffrey's firm."

Blair took the jacket without a word.

Julian opened the door of his black Bentley, ready to head to the hospital. But just before starting the engine, he hesitated. Tilting his head back, he looked toward the second floor of the house.

Willow was sleeping up there.

The night had ended on a sour note. Willow had said she had something important to tell him.